


Do They Know It's Christmas?

by 221b_hound



Series: Guitar Man [102]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas Music, Costumes, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-02 00:28:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2793164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221b_hound/pseuds/221b_hound
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone had the bright idea that the band should dress up as elves when they played for the Met's family Christmas party in 2023. Several smaller, younger, someones thought that Sherlock was right in thinking he ought not to dress as an elf. Their substitute Christmas Costume idea is something of a surprise to his bandmates, but let's face it, Sherlock is game for anything if the kids think it's a good idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do They Know It's Christmas?

**Author's Note:**

> Things have been hectic in both personal and work life, so I don't think I'll get a chance to write Christmas fics across all my universes this year. This is a just a wee bit of Xmas fluff because the idea of SHerlock in this costume has been amusing me forever. I hope it amuses you too.

“Where is he?” Greg glared at his watch, then at the door of the makeshift greenroom in the community hall, then at John. 

John ignored him, busy as he was with examining the curly-toed shoes he was wearing. It was hard to tell what he thought of the shoes, though it was possible he was amused by them. It was equally possible, of course, that he was horrified, or bemused, or simply hadn’t made up his mind yet.

“He’ll be here,” asserted Tad Anderson.

“Yeah, and you’re basing that statement on what precedent, exactly?” Greg frowned at the buttons of his bright green waistcoat, noticed the buttons were awry and began to straighten them.

Tad shrugged. “He always makes it to the concerts. And the kids have been excited as anything about this one, and he never disappoints the kids unless he really, honestly can’t help it.”

John smiled to himself and Greg grinned at Tad.

“Surely you’d noticed that,” Tad said.

“Of course I’d noticed,” said Greg, with a twinkle in his eye, “I didn’t know that you had.”

Tad rolled his eyes and adjusted his elf cap. “You’re a bastard. Ah... Sir.”

“I don’t think hierarchy counts when you’re both dressed as Santa’s Little Helpers,” said Molly, forever the peacemaker. She tugged her elfish tunic down a little, then caught Greg looking at her, so she waggled her arse at him to bring a naughtier twinkle to his eye. 

John sauntered to the door and opened it a crack to look out at the hall. It was the annual Met Christmas do for the families, and of course their own were among those gathered. Mrs Hudson was keeping a watchful eye out on the whole brood, in between sips of punch. There were the twins, Chris and David, now nine, teasing their little sister Chloe, who was sticking her tongue out at them. With them were Charlotte Anderson and her girls, three year old Nicola and Teresa, one. Mary and Rupe were talking together while eight year old Violet was in close conference with Ford. Mycroft was absent but Sally stood to one side, watching her son giggling with his best friend.

Sally caught his eye, and her glance raked over his costume. He arched an eyebrow at her, daring her to comment. She simply quirked a sardonic smile and gave him two thumbs up. His eyebrow became faintly more arch and he shrugged in a ‘what can you do?’ manner.

Just then, Violet saw him and ran over to him to throw herself into his arms. “Daddy!”

“Baby girl!”

“You look very Christmassy,” Violet asserted when he put her back on her feet, “A proper Santa elf.”

“Thanks honey,” John said, masterfully keeping a happy smile on his face. He spread his arms to better display his elvish tights, tunic and curly-toed shoes, topped off by the little red cap. “It was a great idea you kids had to have the band wear costumes. None of us can wait to see Sherlock in his.”

Violet giggled, a little too knowingly. “Sherlock said he was too tall and too skinny to be an elf, too,” she told him, “He said to leave that to you and Uncle Tad and Uncle Greg and Aunt Molly.”

“Did he now?” John’s eyebrows lifted in sardonic non-surprise.

“He didn’t want to be Santa either, so Ford and I helped him with another costume.”

John’s eyebrows kept on finding further room on his forehead to climb. “What’s he coming as?”

“You’ll see,” Violet giggled again, and turned to wave at Ford. “Daddy doesn’t know about Sherlock’s costume,” she shouted across the room. Ford grinned and leaned over to whisper something to his mother, who looked a little startled.

A commotion in the green room caused John to withdraw quickly and quietly, and shut the door, and there he saw Sherlock throwing off the Belstaff, scarf and overlarge hat, to display his very own, and very distinctive costume. Once divested of winter gear, the lanky git stood tall and proud in his figure-hugging outfit, at once defiant, dramatic and proud. 

The band was staring at Sherlock. All of the band. Greg was staring, aghast, at Sherlock’s black and white clad torso. Tad was staring at his black and white painted face. Molly was blinking rapidly at Sherlock’s arse, as far as John could work out, until she blushed ferociously and stared at the ceiling instead.

Sherlock stood in the centre of the staring and waited for a comment.

John cleared his throat. Sherlock’s gaze fixed immediately on him.

“You do know it’s a Christmas party, Sherlock?” John asked, “With, you know, tinsel and blinking lights and jolliness? Christmas for the kids? Did someone not explain this?”

Sherlock, looking alien and almost unrecognisable behind the face paint and body suit, scowled at him. “Violet and Ford explained the suitability of this costume very carefully, John, so I don't…” And here he caught sight of himself in a mirror. He nodded sagely. “I see the problem.”

“Do you?” asked John, as though he very much had his doubts.

Sherlock strode across the room to pluck up a red and white Santa hat from a table – a prop destined for some other act today, if Sherlock remembered to give it back.

“John, John, where are your pop culture references?” Sherlock asked cheerily as he jammed the festive hat on his flattened curls, and then he struck a pose. And really, underneath that hat, the pinstripe-decorated body suit, tight skeleton gloves and the surprisingly sweet skeleton face, with its big black eyes and friendly stitched smile, did look kind of…Christmassy.

Just then the door opened and Violet and Ford peeked in. They knew this because Violet squealed in delight.

“Sherlooooooooock! You look totally STROPHIC in that! Doesn’t he Ford?”

Ford nodded seriously. “Strophic and Kaleido.”

The adults exchanged looks, wondering what language the kids were speaking these days, but figured it for approval.

“David was right,” Violet continued, “He’s the perfect Jack Skellington.”

Sherlock preened and gave a cocky look to the others, because whatever they thought, the kids approved, and frankly who gave a toss about anyone else’s opinion. 

“Do _What’s This?_ first,” Violet told them, “And it’ll make perfect sense.” With a final giggle and wave, and a double thumbs up from Ford this time, the children withdrew.

By now, Sherlock had his violin under his chin and was running scales. “What are you all waiting for?” he demanded.

John laughed. “Who showed them that movie?”

Sherlock shrugged and Molly looked slightly guilty, which solved that minor mystery, and then it was time to go on stage.

A few of the littlest kids looked startled when the music began, but as Collared launched into _What’s This?_ and Sherlock danced about the stage looking like a spindly top, they seemed to get into the spirit. They were partly encouraged to delight by the way the little crowd of children at the front danced with the spiralling figure, and partly by the way he seemed to constantly accidentally catch his Santa hat on his bow, snatch it up to put back on his head, then catch it again – all the while with comical looks of surprise. It didn’t hurt that his band mates kept laughing at him – especially the little pixie on guitar singing lead vocals.

Skellington Sherlock sobered only slightly for the rest of the set, but he was clearly playing to the front row, who lapped it up. 

The only sour point came much later, when all the kids wanted to sit on Jack’s lap instead of Santa’s to make their Christmas requests, and Jack kept forgetting he wasn’t supposed to tell them what they were actually getting, based on deducing their parents. Parents, children, organisers, band and all were hugely relieved when their scheduled Santa firmly reclaimed his hat, took over the job of being jolly and handing out the sweets, and insisted that Sherlock ‘take his bony arse outside before I start roasting your bleedin’ chestnuts over an open fire, lad’. Greg dragged Sherlock away before the situation got any worse, mainly because John was too busy laughing till he was wheezing to be the blindest bit of help.

All in all, Collared, a.k.a. Jack Skellington and the Rock Pixies, were quite the hit of Christmas 2023. 

At least, people were talking about it for years.

**Author's Note:**

> I wish you all the very best of the holiday season, whether it has significance to you or is just a nice couple of days off. I hope 2014 was good to you, and whether or not it was, I hope 2015 is better. Sending you all love and hugs. xxxx


End file.
